


The Armoury

by Fable



Series: Merlin [16]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Horny, M/M, Shenanigans, fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:39:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1428874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fable/pseuds/Fable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to The Bed Warmer.</p><p>Arthur and I satisfy fantasy number one, which is basically horny shenanigans in a cold damp armoury.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Armoury

The armoury radiated cold; every piece of metal added their reflective chill. The odour of sweat fused with the heady scent of polishing oil. I pushed the heavy iron-bound door closed. As a place for a secret liaison, maybe I could have chosen better.

A lone wall torch cast dancing shadows across the racks of swords and shelves of crossbows. To one side, armour plates were set in such a way, helmets above breastplates with gauntlets resting in front, that they looked like waiting knights with front row seats for that afternoon’s performance. We had an audience—that was another fantasy entirely.

‘This way.’ Arthur took my wrist and led me into the gloom towards the far end of the armoury. I stumbled over loose cannonballs and discarded oilcloths with the eagerness of his lead. In a darken corner and dulled in the fading light, Arthur’s battle uniform and… leather gloves lay on a long bench.

‘Dress me Merlin.’

‘Yes, My Lord.’ With practiced hands, I slipped on the chainmail. Fastened the pauldron and gardbrace and pushed into the place the sword arm rerebrace and vambrace. I fastened his sword belt around his waist and slid the leather gloves on. Arthur wouldn’t have worn these into battle, but they featured high in my fantasy. I picked up Arthur’s closed helmet.

‘Not the helmet. I’m gonna need my mouth.’ He looked at me with a knee-melting stare. I felt my face flush with heat and I emitted an airless noise.

‘So Merlin, will I do?’

‘Oh, yes Sire, you’ll do.’ I breathed. I always thought Arthur looked good in full armour. Now, with my heart clattering out a beat and my body as tense as a wire he looked astonishing. He stepped into my space. I was straining against my breeches; Arthur ran a slow hand across me before undoing the laces. The cold air nipped at my legs as the breeches dropped. Arthur didn’t hide his licentious stare. I am, on my own admittance, a gangly boy, but I am not lacking in the area Arthur was now ogling. He pulled off my jacket and lifted up my tunic. Good God it was freezing, my breath misted in front of me as I lifted a hand to undo my neckerchief.

‘No. Leave that.’ Arthur commanded.

I cocked my head to one side.

‘Let’s just call it my kink,’ he said as he reached around for a long wooden pole. With a wicked glint in his blue-blue eyes, he curled his fingers one by one around the top of smooth shaft and slid them up, then down.

‘Arthur?’ A wooden pole was not a feature in my fantasy. I hoped it wasn’t a feature in his.

He laughed and spun the pole around to reveal a hooked end. Reaching up, he unhooked a pair of wrist shackles hanging high above my head. I dutifully held out my hands. With quick fingers, Arthur attached the shackles. I juddered—the cold iron struck me to the bone. Arthur hooked the shackles onto the pole, lifted my arms to full stretch, and pinned my wrists to the wall. My body followed. The chill from the stones bit my arse, crawled up my spine, and settled on my shoulders. I shivered.

Arthur kicked my legs apart, leaned in, and stole a rough and hungry kiss. He then took a step back and ran his tongue along his lips. I groaned. I ached so bad, oh God, did I ache. The yearning in my belly was verging on the unbearable. I had created this scenario in many a wakeful hour between dusk and dawn. When I had taken hold of myself and come to images of iron wrapped wrists and the sight of Arthur’s armour pressing into my naked flesh. I was so aware of how wanting I was and how take-able I looked. The thoughts filled me with such pleasure.

‘Is this how it goes Merlin? Is it good so far?’ Arthur closed the space between us.

‘Yes.’ I croaked.

The King of Camelot smiled as he forced into me. He smelt of polish, his armour was cold, and rough, the air rushed from my lungs in a long groan. Arthur’s mouth met mine and as we kissed with a vehement desperation. He slid a gloved hand down my nithered torso and took me to task in an unhurried rhythm.

My muscles tightened. ‘Arthur…’

‘Merlin, don’t come yet.’ He murmured.

I’m shackled naked to the wall of the armoury with legs akimbo. The King of Camelot is breathing my air, and working me with heartbeat regularity in leather encased fingers. And he says don’t come yet. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think of anything mundane that would prolong the inevitable.

It was working until Arthur dropped to his knees.

He placed his hands on my hips and pressed me into the wall. He took me into his hot mouth—long, slow pulls followed by a breath, and then repeated—over and over again. Delirious, ecstatic, high, there were too many words to describe my feelings. It was too much. I bucked at my chains. ‘Arthur!’ I cried.

‘No, you don’t.’ He stood and ran his hands up towards my wrists; we mirrored each other for a moment before he captured my mouth. He tasted good.

The noise from the great iron-bound door was unmistakable as it scraped along the stone flags. We froze. Heavy boots trod in thumps accompanied by low chatter.

‘Shush.’ Arthur warned. I had no thoughts of calling out Hey guys come see what we’re doing! We could see that the knights had enough light from the half-closed door to perform their task. We both held our breaths. Unless they required something from the depths, the knights wouldn't see us. A tremble ran through me, it was thrilling—our randy conduct in the shadows. Arthur smiled a naughty smile. ‘Let’s finish this.’ He took me in hand.

In the cold gloom, with Arthur pressing me into the damp stones I came. With the sound of knightly chatter and a leather glove clamped over my mouth. It was visceral, it was raw, and it was just how I imagined it. I hung from my wrists, panting in silent sobs, head resting on my chest. Spent. Arthur lifted my chin and kissed me. ‘You look… wonderful,’ he whispered into my mouth.

‘You were wonderful.’ I mumbled.

The knights had been unknowing witnesses to the debauchery between their King and his useless servant. They left, slamming the door behind them. It wasn’t quite my audience fantasy but it was close.

We both blew a long breath as Arthur unshackled me. I rubbed my wrists and scrabbled around for my clothes.

‘Arthur, you…’ I said, aware that our horny shenanigans were one sided.

‘Undress me and you can see to my needs in my soft warm bed.’

‘Yes, My Lord.’

‘Oh, and Merlin, grab some of that oil on your way out…’

I never wanted this bitter winter to end.

 


End file.
